


metal eyes

by saltsanford



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Gen, Light Angst, Pre-Canon, Rated for cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:21:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27133798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltsanford/pseuds/saltsanford
Summary: The thing is that Al doesn’t have a face. Like—okay, sure, he has a face, but it’s ametalface. Attached to a suit of armor. It can’t do expressions or emotions.Or at least it shouldn’t be able to.
Relationships: Alphonse Elric & Edward Elric
Comments: 7
Kudos: 52





	metal eyes

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this little thing a year ago when I was playing with their voices - found it basically completed so I thought, what the heck, HERE YOU GO. fictober prompt for "it will be fun, trust me." there are no words for how much I love this show <3

The thing is that Al doesn’t have a face. Like—okay, sure, he has a face, but it’s a _metal_ face. Attached to a suit of armor. It can’t do expressions or emotions.

Or at least it shouldn’t be able to.

Yet glaring across the table at his little brother, Ed would swear to fucking god that there is an expression on that face.

Ed sighs. Directs his gaze to the ceiling instead. The ceiling—the _ceiling_ can’t give him shit. Can’t give him those puppy eyes, either. Those puppy eyes that _shouldn_ _’t be possible._ “Al. No.”

“But _brother,_ ” Al says plaintively, “they invited us.”

“So? People invite us to shit all the time. Doesn’t mean we have to go.”

“But it would be impolite not to. You work with them.”

“ _Tch_ , it’s not a military function! They can’t make me go!”

“That’s exactly why you should go,” says Al. He waits until Ed has dropped his gaze from the ceiling to squint at Al suspiciously. “Because you _don_ _’t_ have to. Because it’s not a military function, and they want us to go anyway.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Brother,” says Al with infinite patience, “they’re looking out for us. It will be fun, trust me—”

Ed shoves his chair back from the table so hard that he almost flips backwards over it. “We don’t need anyone to look out for us,” he snaps, and storms over to the fridge and yanks it open.

The empty fridge. Because he forgot to go food shopping after his last mission.

_Again._

He slams it shut, but can tell by Al’s very pointed silence that he not only saw the empty fridge, but that it proved his point exactly. Al waits for what he clearly deems an appropriate amount of time for Edward to feel properly chastised before speaking up. “There will be food if we go.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Brother—”

“I said no, Al!”

It’s times like these when he really wishes his military quarters had a separate bedroom so that he could retreat into it. And get some privacy. And maybe slam the door. As it is, he can only storm across the room and flop onto the couch.

At this point, Al usually leaves him alone, but for some reason he isn’t willing to let this drop. “People don’t, you know.”

“Don’t what?”

“You said, ‘people invite us to shit all the time, doesn’t mean we have to go.’ They don’t, actually—”

“Did you just curse?”

“They _don_ _’t,_ not because they don’t want us there, but because they know that you won’t go because you’re too fucking proud—”

Ed sits up to stare at his brother over the back of the couch, jaw dropping. “Al—”

“Or too stubborn to try to make friends—”

“They’re people I work with! They’re not our _friends_ —”

“But they could be your family,” says Al, in a voice that’s far, far worse than any hypothetical puppy dog expression his metal face may or may not be making. “They could be _our_ family.”

“ _We_ _’re_ a family,” says Ed, trying and failing not to sound wounded. “You and me. We don’t need them. We’ve got each other, right? And Win and Granny.”

Al sighs, long and gusting. “Ed. I _know._ But Win and Granny aren’t here. It’s just…remember when you got sick?”

Ed blinks at him. “What, you mean last year?”

“Yeah. You were out of it for almost three days and you wouldn’t let me take you to a hospital—”

“Of course not, it was a stupid head cold!”

“Well, we don’t know what it was, now do we? Because _you_ didn’t go to a doctor. It could’ve been the flu, or—”

“It wasn’t—”

“You don’t know that! Brother, I couldn’t…” Al stops, looks away. “I couldn’t even tell if you had a fever. I didn’t know what to do. If there had been someone you trusted that I could call—”

“Hey, hey,” Ed says sharply. “If you ever call Mustang when I’m _sneezing,_ I’ll—I’ll—”

“You scare me sometimes,” says Al, and Ed shuts the fuck up so fast that his teeth clack together. “I know we take care of each other, but…you make it hard sometimes. Sometimes I wish I had help.”

“Sorry,” Edward mutters after a long pause. “I didn’t…sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

It’s not. “You’re my family, Al. I don’t need anyone else.”

“Not family, then,” Al allows. “Maybe just….people. Maybe it’d be nice to have people.”

“People?” Ed asks suspiciously.

“Yes, brother. People.”

He sighs loudly. “Still don’t see what any of this has to do with us going to Colonel Bastard’s stupid holiday party.”

“Because the Colonel invited you, and the Lieutenant asked me today if I was going to be there, and because these people _like_ us.”

Ed snorts, folding his arms across his chest. “They like _you._ ”

“They like you too,” Al says, exasperated. “Or at least, they want to. Fuery thinks you’re so smart and Havoc thinks you’re really funny and Mustang brags about you to the other teams—”

“What—” Ed can feel his own stupid, stupid overly-expressive face getting warm. “They do not—he doesn’t brag about me, you just made that up!”

“Well,” Al says, “maybe if we went to the party and you _happened_ to do some alchemy, and then we did some eavesdropping to see if the Colonel says anything nice about you, you could tease him about it after…”

Ed stares at him. At his innocent, expressionless armored face. “Okay, that was pretty good, Al.”

“So we can go?”

“Ugh,” Ed groans, flopping back down on the couch. “Fine! Fine, fine, fine, but if it’s a terrible time, don’t blame—”

“Great! They’re doing a gift exchange. I got Mister Hughes and you got Hawekeye, so—”

“What?” Ed sputters. “What gift exchange? What are you—how did _I_ get anyone?!”

“I drew the name for you, of course!”

“WHAT THE HELL, AL?!”

* * *

“My goodness. Did he just transmute that entire table without a transmutation circle?! The intricacy…the sheer amount of detail, right down to the skulls on the table legs…and to not spill a single drop of the food on top of it!”

Mustang smirks. “Yes, well. I suppose there is a reason he’s the youngest state alchemist ever.”

“Quite…quite…really, Mustang, I must attend these functions of yours more often…”


End file.
